Stains
by lumecia
Summary: "So, John is stuck with a thirty-something-year-old man, acting like a five-year-old, in his bed and a couch stained with liquefied human foot. It could be worse, he supposes." - More or less an occupyblanket fill


**Stains**

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Sometimes, John really wonders why he still cares. Times like this, make him question, whether he had been in his right mind, agreeing to share a flat with Sherlock Holmes.

It all began with a relatively normal thing, at least concerning Sherlock-related things.

Sherlock was preparing an experiment in the living room, which was fine with John. Really. If Sherlock wreaked havoc on the living room, he couldn't destroy the freshly cleaned kitchen or bathroom simultaneously. Well, he probably could, but he hadn't managed to, yet. Also, Sherlock's beloved couch and skull lived in the room, which secured the room against the grosser experiments. Those, involving items of questionable nature. So, John left to get some groceries, since Sherlock couldn't be bothered.

While John was shopping in the nearby Tesco, more or less happily, Sherlock continued his experiment. It was a fairly simple one, involving several bagged body parts, decomposition and a smouldering chip of wood. Everything went as it should and the first foot exploded, as expected. All over the living room.

Sherlock hadn't been able to make place on the kitchen table. The solutions simmering over the Bunsen burners still needed some hours. Otherwise, the foot would have exploded in the kitchen. John wouldn't have been delighted about that, but had already removed all non-damp wipeable items. This was probably a good thing, regarding the substances Sherlock normally used.

But the kitchen table hadn't been free, thus the couch and the nearby carpet were now drenched in semi-liquid foot. The results were, in a word, satisfactory, in terms of scientific research and alleviating Sherlock's boredom. Better than the experiment though, was the noise the incoming text message made. He retrieved his coat and left the flat while texting Lestrade back. John would know how to get rid of the stains on the couch's upholstery, Sherlock was sure of that.

The first thing John noticed after kicking the door open, was the distinctive smell of decomposing organic matter - most likely some kind of flesh - and something burned. "Sherlock?" He waited and wasn't too concerned when no answer came. Lestrade had possibly called him to a crime scene.

John headed into the kitchen, dumping the Tesco bags on the last vacant surface; surprisingly one of the chairs. Once he had put away their contents, he went to investigate the smell. As feared it came from the area Sherlock had experimented in, meaning the coffee table in front of the couch…

Now, several hours later, the couch is still unusable, which is bad considering that Sherlock only sleeps/rests on the aforementioned couch. John, being the pragmatist he is, immediately put cleansing foam on the stains to prevent them from drying, thereby ruining couch and carpet completely. Then, he texted Sherlock.

_'Sherlock, I will NOT clean up THIS MESS. – JW'_

The foam, which has dried up in the meantime, still has to be removed. John refuses to lift another finger. It's Sherlock's mess, and he's gone too far this time. Exploding limbs are a bit not good in the kitchen, albeit better than exploding limbs in the living room. But exploding limbs on the couch are a no-go. Sherlock knows that.

The thing is, however, that Sherlock will neither lift a finger, resulting in the still dirty couch. Even worse, after John's quite justified shouting, he's now pouting. On John's bed. Right after declaring his intent of not moving until the couch is deemed non-biohazardous again, he had sprinted upstairs and settled on John's bed. His reasoning for doing so was just; the couch was out of the picture and his own bedroom was presumptively more dangerous to a person than chasing murdering cabbies through London.

So, John is stuck with a thirty-something-year-old man, acting like a five-year-old, in his bed and a couch stained with liquefied human foot. It could be worse, he supposes.

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So, you read the whole thing. Wow. I wouldn't have done that. Well...thank you ^^

This is my first work in Sherlockdom and the first thing I've ever written in present tense. (I hate present tense. Ardently.) Also my first prompt fill, crack!fic etc., rendering this an experiment. I hope you enjoyed it. Please, write me your suggestions. Thanks again ^^

Oh, and kudos to folha5eca. Her flat layout is really amazing. :)

P.S.: Sry, for the formatting. ffnet is a real pain -.-° Always deletes the line breaks after saving u.u

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Prompt:

We want #occupyblanket fic.

Any character, any fandom, any pairing, any reason. Someone holds, or threatens to hold, a protest where they occupy their own (or someone else's!) bed and refuse to move. Can be serious on their part or joking."


End file.
